


Hashtag Just Squidding

by VanillaIsNotPlain



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ankoku Ika Aramitama, Hasetsu Kunchi, Humor, Parody, Squidgate, Yuri On Festival, ikasuma soba, squid - Freeform, squid ink noodles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaIsNotPlain/pseuds/VanillaIsNotPlain
Summary: Viktor could visibly discern a looming malevolent cloud coalescing behind Yuuri, who was currently relapsing into his default coping mechanism: stress eating. Viktor sighed with fond exasperation. Mentally gathering the magic words to dispel his gloom, Viktor took a deep breath, and -And then Yuuri horked all over his yakisoba.It was… extreme.###It's a tale as old as the ocean depths - a malevolent sea monster curses a boy, the spell is broken by the power of love, and they all live happily ever after.Right?Well, not exactly.Those other boys weren't sons of enterprising ryokan families.But then again, those other boys didn't have Viktor.(In which the Yuri on Festival voice drama happens a little differently.)





	Hashtag Just Squidding

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the Yuri on Festival voice drama; [toraonice at Tumblr](https://toraonice.tumblr.com/post/163106046580/yuri-on-festival-voice-drama-detailed-report) has a very nice English translation!

“What…?” Yuuri staggered back, paling to an ashen hue. “Minami-kun is… replacing me? I’m no longer his role model?”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that,” Viktor hastened to reassure him, resting a placating hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Dang it, he shouldn’t have shared that post. “He’s just trying to broaden his horizons.”

“But, he just totally ignored me on Line,” Yuuri reasoned, voice sliding into panicky heights. “No… he thinks I’m worthless… he doesn’t admire me anymore, I’m pathetic…”

Viktor could visibly discern a looming malevolent cloud coalescing behind the mumbling younger man, who was currently relapsing into his default coping mechanism: stress eating. Viktor sighed with fond exasperation at the male shoveling great heaping stickfuls of greasy noodles into his black hole of a mouth. Mentally gathering the magic words to dispel the gloom that perpetually trailed after the Japanese ace, the Russian coach and champion took a deep breath, and -  

And then Yuuri horked all over his yakisoba.

It was… extreme. There was no other way to describe it. Viktor was transported back to the time long ago as a young boy when he’d once tried to eat the rainbow, but by squirting all of the food colouring capsules he had on hand into his mouth at once. The… whatever-it-was draining like a waterfall from Yuuri’s mouth onto his now soggy noodles looked just like that. Just wet, shiny blackness pooling into the flimsy paper tray.

“Ah! It’s the curse!”

Mari and Minako, arrayed in festive hapi and yukata respectively, barrelled over once they noticed the bizarre sight. They wiped Yuuri’s damp hair from his face, peered at his glassy eyes, then hustled him back towards the ryokan.

Viktor trotted behind them, trying to keep up.

“What curse?” He asked worriedly. Was his darling Yuuri sick?

“I remember hearing about this,” Georgi interrupted, approaching with Yuri trailing behind him. “It’s the curse of the Squid of Darkness.”

“Squid of Darkness?!” Viktor was alarmed. “From that float that we passed earlier? The one that wants to destroy the world??”

“I will drown all things in darkness,” Yuuri growled lowly, towed by both arms along the path up to the onsen entrance.

“Woah…” Yuri adjusted his leopard print hapi as it slid along his skinny shoulders, a look that could easily be mistaken for grudging respect blooming in his eyes. “Edgy.” He gripped his taiyaki a little tighter in his enthusiasm, squeezing a dribble of red paste onto his paws.

“Yuuri?!” The Katsuki couple rushed to their son, naked shock stamped across their faces. “Oh, to think the Squid would choose our son!”

Viktor caught at Minako’s sleeve desperately. “What can we do to save him?”

Yuuri’s sensei glanced back towards the frantic Russian as she relinquished her lolling charge. “Oh, nothing really. Generally, it wears off by itself within a day or so.”

“Hourgh…” Yuuri jerked forward as a new wave of nausea wracked his tortured frame.

“Quick, get a bowl!” Hiroko exclaimed sharply. Mari scrambled inside to the kitchen.

Viktor steadied his protege with steadfast arms, trying to radiate all the warmth and confidence he didn’t feel into the increasingly cold and distant body he held. “Isn’t there any way to fix this faster?”

“Apparently, praying to Chihoko helps,” Georgi supplied, nose buried in his handy Hasetsu guide.

Viktor grit his teeth. That Chihoko jerk again, huh? His entire being screamed out in rebellion against the mere notion. But, if that’s what it took to save his Yuuri…

“That, or the power of love,” Mari elaborated, holding the retrieved bowl out for her barfing brother.

“Love?” Viktor brightened with the strength of a thousand supernovas. “No problem, then! No one can cure Yuuri better than I can! Just witness the power of our bond!!”

The entire Katsuki family sans Yuuri plus Minako turned as one to stare at Viktor in realization.

“NO!" They shouted in synchro, dropping Yuuri to the pavement, grabbing the living legend, shoving him inside his suite-nee-banquet room, and slamming the door shut with a bang.

“... What?” asked Viktor faintly, standing alone in the middle of the tatami.

“Finally,” Yuri huffed from his vantage point in the hall as a witness to the bizarre turn of events. At last someone was putting a stop to all the disgusting sappiness.

“I don’t understand,” Georgi understated, still outside. He kindly turned towards the abandoned cursed man, lifting him up from the dirt and dusting him off politely.

“I’ll rain blackness down upon you,” Yuuri groaned in his direction, listless eyes drooping. Smoky tendrils undulated behind him threateningly.

The other skaters who’d gathered to enjoy the Hasetsu Kunchi after the ‘Viktor with Friends’ ice show chose this moment to return to the ryokan.

“Is Yuuri drunk?” Michele asked with concern, taking in his Japanese rival’s disheveled appearance.

“That’s funny, he has more clothes on than usual,” Christophe opined,  disappointedly frowning and readjusting his fundoshi.

“Is he okay?” Guang Hong  timidly stepped forward, followed closely by Leo carrying a pair of bokken.

“Blurgh…” Yuuri tipped forward, splattering dark fluid on Emil’s pure white shirt.

“Woah…” The exuberant Czech stared down in wonder at the new artistically rendered ninja-slash ‘X’ on his now-vintage apparel. “Extreme.”

  * Ika ika ika -



Viktor paced in his room, a lion trapped in a too-small cage. The shoji outlining his room were securely barricaded, as was the sole window. He'd tried the obvious banging and shouting, to no avail; the noise sounded suspiciously muffled, as if dampened by a layer of futons.

Despairing of escaping the analog way, Viktor soon tried a new tack, which mostly turned out just as fruitless. All the skaters staying in the onsen, as well as the entire Noshigori family and the absent Otabek, were ignoring his texts. And DMs, PMs, messages and posts. He’d tried reaching out further. Mila’s automatic away message repeated warnings of retribution for interrupting Skater Girls’ Day Out. Phichit demanded pictures (If Viktor had the opportunity and leisure to take pictures, he wouldn’t be desperately tweeting him, now would he?). He didn't want to be told to overcome his limits JJ Style, so Viktor skipped over the Canadian skating star. Yakov just told him to stop being overdramatic, and to remind Yura to get that bidet-thingy from that one store. Viktor made a face at that; who could think about bidets at a time like this? And the old grump had the nerve to call  _ him _ overdramatic! And Seung-Gil Lee? Viktor clean forgot his existence.

Finally, there was no one left. No one, that is, except the one who (unwittingly) caused this whole fiasco.

“Hi Viktor!” A snaggle-toothed grin blinded Viktor from his screen with its sheer irrepressible vivacity. “I can’t believe you sent me a Facetime call!”

“Hello, Minami,” Viktor responded warily, shielding himself from the infectious uplifting aura leaking from his phone. He was  _ not _ feeling peppy and hopeful right now, dangit! “I need your help.”

“Mine?!” Minami began vibrating like someone had switched him to manner mode. “But how can  _ I _ help you? You have Yuuri-sempai! Oh, wait, where is he?” A mustard-yellow-with-red-sauce shock of hair filled Viktor’s display, as the enthusiastic kohai leaned forward as if to search the premises in person.

“That’s just it,” Viktor explained thickly, the words difficult to force out aloud. “He’s… been cursed.”

_ Th-thunk _ ! A crash erupted from Viktor’s speakers, and suddenly he was viewing nothing but empty wall. The energetic boy rebounded from his fall with alacrity. “Yuuri-sempai’s been  _ cursed _ ? How? When? Why?”

“I’m not too sure,” Viktor admitted, blinking slowly and trying to reassemble the facts. “It might be more accurate to say he’s been… possessed?”

“ _ Possessed _ ??” Fawn eyes grew large and round as katsudon bowls.

“Yes, I think so, right after I read him your post. It was terrifying. They said it was something called…” Viktor struggled to recall the term Georgi had used. “The Squid of Darkness?”

Minami’s gasp sucked all the air out of the room. “The Squid of Darkness? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Viktor answered hurriedly, the repetition of the term cementing it into his brain. “Why? Do you know it?”

Minami pierced him with an intense glare. “Yes, if I’m remembering the right one… it happens every once in a while, but I never dreamed Yuuri-sempai…” His hanging tooth worried his lower lip nervously. “Did he act strange in any way?”

“Yes,” Viktor affirmed, his words now tripping over themselves, released by the receptiveness of his audience. “He keeps mumbling about spreading an ocean of darkness, and vomits this black liquid all over everything.”

“Black liquid!?” Minami jumped, switching the call to voice only. The feverish taps on his phone keypad carried through to the increasingly nervous Russian.

“Is it serious?” Viktor breathed lowly. He didn’t expect this to have lasting effect, not with Yuuri’s family’s reaction. But then again, he hadn't predicted they'd inexplicably imprison him within their own home either. Which, as a matter of fact, he hadn’t yet related to Minami. He opened his mouth to do just that, but was beaten to it by the excitable young man himself.

“Is it serious?! I’d say so!” Viktor heard a series of notifications buzzing on the younger skater’s phone. “I’ll be there in a few hours!” The call disconnected in an abrupt  _ click _ .

Viktor settled in, drawing a blanket around himself as he stared out the (impassable planked over) window. "Don't worry," he whispered to himself, and to his achingly distant Yuuri. "Help is on the way."

  * Ika ika ika -



Viktor perked up from the light doze he'd dropped into, hearing a new strident tone enter the hubbub in the ryokan (which had been going continuously since the beginning of the night; Viktor was not sure what to make of that, certainly not used to such prolonged high traffic during his months-long stay previously, but he supposed he ought to make allowances for festival business. Still, he scowled to himself, it was awfully callous of everyone, including the onsen family, to make merry and drum up booming business while the son of the place was playing unwilling host to a sinister squid).

Viktor rolled out from his sad lonely heap on the tatami and pressed his ear to the shoji. If he was very still, he could just make out a hurried conversation between the okami-san Hiroko and his unlikely saviour, but not any particular words. Viktor was so absorbed in his efforts that he was nearly sent tumbling on his tush when the doors to his room-turned-princess tower were slid open.

"Hi, Viktor!" Minami's cheerful snaggle-toothed face filled the opening. The junior skater held out a bowl full of something warm and comforting as mitigation. Viktor's numb hands accepted on autopilot. “I’ve heard it’s really good, you should try some!” Minami’s wrapt covetous gaze at the proffered dinner testified to his own opinion, along with the slight gleam of drool from one fang-like tooth.

"Thank you for rescuing me." Viktor exhaled in relief, not even registering the food he held. A determined gleam reentered his gaze. "Now, to save Yuuri! Where is he?" The older man craned his head above the younger’s, peering out into the hallway in search of his own rescuee.

"Right, about that," Minami hedged, playing nervously with the ends of his travel-rumpled team jacket and shifting from foot to foot. More pertinently, he did not budge from his position in the middle of the shoji opening. "You can't see him. Not yet."

"... What?" Viktor demanded, tone dangerously low.

Minami had the good grace to look guilty, not that Viktor cared just then. "Just... wait a bit. It'll only last a little longer."

Viktor scowled. "Yes, so Minako told me. But I can free Yuuri now!"

"Yes, we know," Minami admitted shamefaced. "But... you see, Viktor, the thing is..." The poor boy rubbed his hands together nervously. "There are certain... benefits to Yuuri-sempai's... condition."

Viktor paused, thrown for a loop at this revelation. "Benefits...?"

"Well, yes." Minami studiously shifted his gaze towards the floor mats.

"For who?" Viktor persisted calmly.

"Everybody, actually." Minami perked up a bit at Viktor's unexpected cooperation. He pointed in Viktor's direction. "As a matter of fact, that -"

"In that case, there's no problem with letting me seeing Yuuri now," Viktor cut him off abruptly.

Minami blinked owlishly. "Er, well, I'm not so sure -"

Faintly, from the direction of the back of the house with the ambient background noise of click-clanking pots and plates, Viktor discerned a hollow "I will rain down the despair and terror of the night on you all," closed with a wet retching noise. This was followed by a chorus of 'Oooh!'s in several familiar accents, along with a distinctly Russian 'Disgusting!' laced with morbid fascination.

Minami swallowed dryly, gaze roving everywhere but towards the man before him.

Impulsively, Viktor lowered the dish he'd been holding to the floor and captured Minami's hands in his own. The warmth of Viktor's insistence traveled through the shared touch. "Please," the Russian legend begged, eyes soft and pleading.

Minami, thoroughly cowed, made as if to wilt out of his way, but was suddenly replaced by a more formidable obstacle.

“No,” said Mari succinctly.

She matched her actions to the ultimatum, slamming the door between the two males.  

Hearing the sounds of barricading the doors repeated from earlier, Viktor sprang into motion, bodyslamming ferociously against the shoji. Each effort resulted in him bouncing harmlessly off the sliding walls, the confines of his prison remaining secure. He growled in impotent frustration.

He could hear the hesitant high register of the visiting skater in the hall, asking his companion “Maybe it would be okay to let him out, you know, if we just explained how -”

Viktor never got to hear what exactly, as Minami was interrupted by the gruff tones of the possessed man’s sister. “You haven’t had any of the noodles yet, have you? You’d better hurry before we run out.”

“Yipe!” Faster than you could say ‘Notice me sempai!’, Minami’s excited chatter faded towards the bustle of the kitchen. Mari’s measured tread followed at a more reasonable pace.

Isolated again, Viktor lowered himself to the floor. He sniffed at the dish Minami had left him mistrustfully. It smelled slightly fishy. The abandoned coach poked at the saturated contents  listlessly a few times before depositing a swirl of noodles into his mouth. Not bad, he realized as he chewed thoughtfully, quickly caving in to the demands of his no longer dormant and cavernous stomach. Shoveling bigger helpings in his mouth, he wondered absently what the sauce was made of - something soy-based considering the distinct hue, probably, but that wouldn't account for the lingering seafood flavour. It was also a bit salty, he thought regretfully, but perhaps that was just the bitter aftertaste of his tears.

  * Ika ika ika -



Viktor finished his noodles and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Right. Armies march on their stomach. Now that his was filled, it was time to make new and improved plans to escape and rescue Yuuri with the power of his love. His precious boy was depending on him; Viktor was his only hope.

Wait.

Viktor slowed, the night’s previous conversation replaying in his mind.

Viktor  _ wasn’t _ Yuuri’s only hope. There was another.

But… was their help worth the price?

Viktor screwed his eyes shut. He knew Yuuri would recover on his own eventually, so it was tempting to ignore this (excruciatingly painful) option. But - just as Viktor considered this, his distressed ears picked up the distant sounds of puking, and the image of Yuuri spewing that wretched stream of vile blackness sprang up in his memory. No, he could not sit idly by and do nothing while Yuuri continued to suffer. No matter the sacrifice to himself.

Viktor settled down, steeled himself, and mentally prepared for the loathsome task of praying for Yuuri to Chihoko.

Meanwhile, in that exact instant in the kitchen, Yuuri was hunched over a plate of plain noodles, still mumbling ominously. "I will cast a pall of - EHHH??"

His sudden squeal carried throughout the ryokan.

Hiroko glanced in his direction from where she hovered over several pans of boiling soba. “Oh, finished already? I’d hoped for at least another hour’s worth,” she noted with mild disappointment.

Yuuri spluttered, swiping across his face frantically, and gazing in horror at the dark stains transferred to his hands. “What the hell…” he muttered, drawing them closer beneath his thick-rimmed glasses for inspection.

Mari strode in from outside the ryokan, the unusually loud clamour of late-night customers trailing in behind her. One glance was all it took for her to grasp the situation. She poked her head back through the doorway and hollered, “Dad! It’s over!”

“Already?” Echoing his wife’s comment, Toshiya left the stall outside and rushed in to survey the scene. “Ah, well. We still made good with the run we got. No matter. Anyway, we should all take a photo to commemorate this auspicious event!”

Still dazed, Yuuri allowed himself to be poked and prodded outdoors and into position in front of the temporary festival stall. He didn’t quite regain full use of his faculties until the searing brightness of the flash.

An obscenely short time afterwards, Phichit Chulanont’s Instagram post was escalating with hundreds of likes by the minute. It consisted of the Katsukis posing as a family in front of a weathered festival stall bearing the name ‘Ankoku Noodles’ on a wooden placard, with several world-famous skaters arrayed behind them, empty plates bearing dark stains in their hands. The dawn light cast a happy glow on the tired but exuberant upturned faces. On all, that is, except for one Katsuki Yuuri, whose burgeoning realization was reflected in his wide, wide eyes captured for all time with the click of the shutter.

The picture was captioned ‘My best friend just quit barfing squid ink!’, and tagged #DemonSquidPossession #SquidInkPasta #OnlyJapan #RUSquiddingMe.

  * Afterwards -



“Yuuri!!”

A silver blur launched itself towards the named man, and melded itself around him.

“Viktor…?” Yuuri gingerly reached his arms around the glomper, and patted him on the back lightly. “Hi?”

“You’re saved!” Viktor buried his face in Yuuri’s shoulder, happiness and relief radiating from him like a giddy oven.

“I guess so,” Yuuri agreed, a fresh wave of roiling anxiety causing to him wonder just what he’d done to inspire such a reaction. He resolved to put off asking for as long as possible. Preferably never.

Viktor however had no such qualms. “It was awful!” he wailed, sniffling into Yuuri’s hapi. “You kept on railing on about drowning the world in darkness -”

“Oh, yabai,” Yuuri whispered.

Viktor ignored him. “And barfing this gross liquid - I don’t even know - have you been chugging molasses when I wasn’t looking? - and I didn’t know what to do!” Viktor whined disconsolately. “For some reason, they wouldn’t let me exorcise you!”

“I’ll bet,” Yuuri muttered, thinking of the killing the ryokan must have made with the locally-renowned (supernaturally produced, one night only) Ankoku ikasumi soba.

“But then, I remembered…” Here, Viktor made a low uncomfortable noise in the back of his throat, and whispered the next word softly in Yuuri’s ear, as if it was unbearable to be spoken aloud. “ _ Chihoko _ , and now you’re back safe and sound!”

“Yes, well, great,” Yuuri closed the conversation shortly, more than ready to put the whole debacle behind him. "I'm all fine now, thank you, please get off."

Viktor on the other hand wasn’t ready. “But you know, I hadn’t even prayed yet! Maybe Chihoko does favours in advance? Or maybe it was those noodles! I wouldn’t have even remembered without eating those black noodles. What were they, Yuuri?”    

Yuuri was capable of answering only through incoherent groaning.

Viktor paused nuzzling Yuuri in order to observe him quizzically. “What’s that?”

Yuuri was spared the pain of answering by the sudden arrival of Minami.

“Okay, I delivered all the orders!” he declared brightly. “May I have some ikasumi soba now?”

“Sorry, the Squid’s gone, so we’re fresh out,” Mari informed him, crossing the area quickly in the midst of tear-down.

“What?!” The young skater’s eyes filled with unshed tears. He whimpered slightly. "What did I even come and work for then?"

Viktor frowned. "Didn't you come to rescue me?"

"Rescue?" Both Japanese skaters regarded him on astonishment.

"I came for the noodles, of course," said Minami matter-of-factly.

"You came here, in the middle of the night, all the way from Fukuoka just for noodles?" Viktor reiterated, skepticism laced heavily through his tone.

"Not just any noodles!" Minami held up his index finger as he prepared to elucidate the out-of-the-loop coach. "They were-"

"Gnarly, Katsudon," Yuri Plisetsky interrupted, joining the trio. "I've revised my opinion of you. Just a little," he appended hastily. He was still the superior Yuri, after all, and must maintain his  image.

"That wasn't katsudon, Yurio," Viktor stated with authority. "I should know."

"That was exquisite! What other delightful surprises are you hiding within you, hm, Yuuri~?"  Christophe teasingly leaned over the younger skater with half-lidded eyes.

"Don't get so close, Chris, can't you see Yuuri's uncomfortable?" Viktor rebuffed, pushing against the Swiss's chest in an effort to create some distance. "He doesn't like it when you violate his personal space without his permission!"

"No, I don't," Yuuri reiterated pointedly towards the Russian man currently plastered around him uninvited.

“I learnt so many things about Japan,” Georgi marveled aloud, wandering past as he scribbled ‘Don’t stick chopsticks upright into noodle bowls’ into his tour guide pamphlet’s margin. “But I haven’t learnt how to get ink stains out of fabric.” He glanced down with worry at his ryokan’s server uniform, where a big black splotch bloomed across one hip. Viktor gazed at it curiously. Had a customer’s pen exploded? And why did it smell like seafood?

Emil and Michele, wearing matching attire, strode up behind them. “That wouldn’t have been an issue if our server uniform was fundoshi like I suggested," Emil reminded Georgi pointedly.

"Shut up Emil, nobody asked you," Michele snapped back. "More importantly, could I bring back a bottle of the soba sauce for Sara? I think she'd like it."

“Sorry, dear, it’s tradition to not save any,” Hiroko said gently.

"Is this going to be one of those things that everyone knows about except me?" Viktor asked petulantly. "Like how Phichit keeps asking if I’ve seen inside your room yet?"

"Join the club," Yuuri retorted, (non)memories of a certain Sochi Grand Prix banquet still rankling beneath his skin.

Viktor finally withdrew his arms from about the stubborn man, pouting with a reproachful quiver of his lips. “And after all the pain and suffering I went through to save you with the power of my love!”

“Oh, I didn’t… um, well, I love you too, Viktor,” Yuuri responded honestly, chastened by this revelation. He took a moment to share a small silent smile with the frazzled man slumped at his side, staring unreservedly into his expressive azure eyes. They were tempest-tossed and mercurial, Yuuri thought distractedly, like the seaside horizon they’d visited so many months ago. With that look, those same eyes gained a glint of hope. Which, Yuuri being Yuuri, promptly nipped in the bud.

“Sorry, but I’m still not telling you,” he maintained adamantly. The Nikiforov poster shrine walls were one thing - he’d have to prepare himself, for like a day or six, for that bombshell, but he intended to share that eventually. But explaining to Viktor that he’d eaten a bowl of Yuuri’s demonic puke? That was in an entirely different category.

Viktor drooped like those potted plants Yuuri and Phichit kept buying for their dorm room and murdering through neglectful desiccation (even the aloe vera). “Aww…” He flashed a potent pair of puppy-eyes up through his silver fringe.

Yuuri cleared his strangled throat with effort. “No means no.” With both puppies and Viktor, one had to remain firm, no matter how difficult it was.

Minako sensei bounced up excitedly. “Hey, Yuuri, have you seen Phichit’s post about your barf-soba?”

“HAA!” With inhuman speed, Viktor whipped out his mobile and opened the Thai social media master’s feed.

Yuuri simultaneously resigned himself to the inevitable, fondly waved an imaginary handkerchief at the forever departing vestiges of his ordinary and respectable reputation, and deeply regretted the bother of ever recovering his humanity. All that remained for him to do was to drop his head in his hands and dry-sob. “... Why me?” 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic does not endorse praying to strange gods, nor chugging food colouring. I honestly don't know what would happen if you did that second one. Become a fruit loop, maybe?
> 
> Sorry, I was supposed to be writing Gesundheit when I wrote this. I told myself that that Chihoko thing was it. No more going off on fanfic tangents with all the ridiculous Yuuri on Stage / Festival seiyuu goodness. I'm so bad at following my own advice.
> 
> This was so ripped off of Ika Musume (which I do not own). This is what my brain does when it hears "sentient humanoid squid wants to destroy the world".
> 
> Please visit me at [vanillaisnotplain on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vanillaisnotplain) to squeal over the adorableness that is the Yuri on Ice the Musical, and other YoI things!


End file.
